The Blessing
by lourdesmont
Summary: Erik stands on a precipice between Life and Death as shadows of the future swirl about him and a voice from the past calls out from the fog. A oneshot based on 'Puzzle Pieces' and 'Golden Princess'.


_**Author's Notes:**_ I was inspired to write this after the first time I saw Lisa Kelly perform this live. Now I am not saying this is how "Golden Princess" ends. Nor am I saying that is how it isn't ending. Consider it an early Holiday Present since I am moving – yet again – and any other writing is currently on hold till I can walk across the floors without having to step over anything. Finally - This is just something The Muse really wanted to do - if you are gonna kill anyone for this - kill her.

**The Blessing**  
_music by David Downes_  
_lyrics by Brandon Graham_

He waited on the precipice between light and dark, sun and shadow, Life and Death. He was a shade within a shadowed world. From where he stood, he slowly turned a circle, staring deeply into the unending darkness that surrounded him, a despairing darkness with which he was all too familiar. His gaze still sought out light in the darkness and he did not know why for it had been extinguished long ago. Lost forever. Everything had been lost so long ago. And in that lost, empty darkness he listened to the silence, silence that had been his truest companion for – how many years? He forgot how many years it had been now since the music had died. That music had been his life and he had forgotten what it was to live. He only remembered the unending cold of a dead heart, the emptiness of a lost soul.

For years he had wandered lost in this limbo, alone, hidden in the shadows, unseen, unwanted. It was familiar and strangely comfortable. He could have – and would have – stood where he was for an eternity. Yet, far off in a distance he could not comprehend, there was a whisper that seemed to call to him. He struggled to hear it. He struggled to ignore it. Yet still it called out to him, beginning to stir something within his being. He placed his hands over his ears as he fought to shut out that vague whisper. He hung his head, looking away from the distance that closed in upon him, suddenly knowing he stood upon a line, a line that demanded to be crossed.

He cast a furtive glance backward, seeing the darkness, feeling the cold and damp. Could he willingly go back to that? How many years – how many lifetimes – had been spent in that darkness? Voices from the past called out to him in that darkness, surrendering life, urging life and one voice called more clearly than the rest. He clasped his hands more tightly over his ears as he struggled to shut out that lone voice.

He raised his head and looked forward into the shadows. It was comfortable. He would stay here. He would hide for an eternity in the shadows. No one would find him. There would be no memories, no voices calling out to him. That lone voice, that sweet music would not be there. There would just be the unending gray stillness.

He stood on a line and would remain on the line.

But the vague whisper in the distance moved closer, an invisible fog in the grayness. It reached out tiny tendrils, pulling hands away from ears, raising a foot to cross an invisible line. The whisper sang out to him, the music growing stronger as living shadows began to dance before his eyes …

_In the morning when you rise_  
_I bless the sun, I bless the skies_  
_I bless your lips, I bless your eyes_  
_My blessing goes with you_

He saw the small boy sleeping peacefully, his head gently cradled in his mother's lap. He watched as the child awoke, laughter slipping easily from lips always ready with a smile. That smile was always there, a constant reminder of the joy that a child saw in each moment of life. The joy of running in sun-drenched fields. The joy of each new discovery gleefully presented to the woman who was never far from his side. The joy of sitting before a roaring fire, a small tongue poking out, as fantastical creations were formed from simple wooden blocks. That happy smile that had not been his. A smile that had been ... He closed his eyes in pain as he remembered the day he had killed that smile. He remembered the hurt upon that little face as he had pulled back from the hug, handing the child to those who were still capable of love. He remembered shutting out the child's cries as he turned his back and walked away forever. He had thought he had forgotten those cries.

Those cries ...

_In the nighttime when you sleep_  
_Oh I bless you while your watch I keep_  
_As you lie in slumber deep_  
_My blessing goes with you_

He had stood outside the door to the room, unwilling to venture forth over the threshold. It had been another line in his life that he had been unwilling to cross. It had been the final line in a life spent finding the courage to cross lines that meant he had been a part of the world. Yet not even the frail whimpers of another lost soul could summon forth the inner strength he needed to enter that room. So he had stood outside the door, as he had stood for so many previous nights, waiting and watching. And slowly the whimpers began to fade away as a peace settled upon the lonely nursery. He watched, tears he was unwilling to shed drying in the cold fire of his soul, as the cradle began to rock gently back and forth. He watched a familiar shadow bend over the cradle and turned his back to the room. He could no longer bear to see that which had been lost. Nor could he stand to look upon that which promised to be an echo of that loss.

So he had disappeared back into the all too familiar pervading silence ...

_When your weary heart is tired_  
_If the world will leave you uninspired_  
_When nothing more of Love's desired_  
_My blessing goes with you_

He had expected the silence, the angry gaze. He almost yearned for them for he understood them and they justified his actions. He wished he had had such strength of character at the same early age - perhaps, if he had, things would have turned out differently. But things were as they were and he could not have changed them even if he had still wanted to do so. No, this was the best he could do - turn and walk away. It was best that the child learn the cruelty of life before he could still believe in hope. He stared into familiar gray eyes for a last time and saw the future slowly fading, the dreams, the music dying as the stars burned out. He had almost reached out at that moment but the child had turned his back in a final gesture of defiant resignation. He, too, had turned his back and in such a simple act both father and son had lost their humanity.

And still the distant music continued - growing stronger, moving closer - as the fog wrapped tightly about him and shadows grew clearer...

_When the storms of life are strong_

He stared at the papers before him, the lines and angles dancing at cross purposes. His frustration got the better of him and he flung out a hand, papers, rulers and pens scattering about the cold room. He would never get it right. This would be just another failure in a long string of failures. All he needed was someone to believe in him. All he needed ... was the breeze that blew in through the open window, waving his dark curls and caressing the scarred skin beneath. He picked up a blank sheet of paper and a new pen, sitting down at his drafting table to begin again.

_When you're wounded, when you don't belong_

She walked along the sandy beach, enjoying the cold October air, the sting of tiny sand particles as they hit her face. She paused in her walk to stare out at the rolling waves of the Channel. How easy it would be to walk into that darkness, to allow herself to be pulled under, to become one with the eternal motion of the water. Her feet began to carry her toward the edge of the water as her hands began to divest her body of its outer garments. She wanted peace, she wanted to belong ... to something ... to anything. She had never known a moment of belonging in her young life and now she was tired beyond her years. And as she reached the Channel's edge, swaying back and forth with the motion of the waves, a voice called out to her. She turned around to find herself face to face with a young man with dark hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen, holding out the scarf and gloves she had dropped while high overhead a lone gull danced on the wind.

_When you no longer hear my song_

He lay still and silent on the bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Steamer trunks rested against a far wall of the hotel room, their lids open, contents carelessly scattered about. He sighed as he tried to remember what city he was in, what month it was, even what time it was. Life had long since ceased to hold any meaning for him. Now his world was just a blur of town after town, concert after concert. He could have played anything and the fools would have applauded his efforts - they were so ignorant. He knew he could play - his technique was flawless. And he could fool anyone into thinking there was real feeling behind the sounds that he forced from his violin. Yet he knew there was nothing - no emotion - it had all died years ago. He sat up and stared at the open violin case, reaching in to pick it up, placing it under his chin. He closed his eyes for a moment, the bow paused over the strings, and he heard a forgotten voice sing in his ear and the bow began to echo the tune as tears slipped unnoticed down his cheeks.

_My blessing goes with you_

"No!" he screamed as the shadows gathered around him, melding into the fog whose tendrils held him so tightly. "Let me go!"

_This is my prayer for you_

"I need no prayers!" he continued to scream, the distance suddenly seeming not quite so distant.

_There for you_

"I need no one! I have never needed anyone!" The shadows held him gently, stilling his struggles.

_Ever true_

"Truth? Truth?" He asked angrily of the encroaching unseen menace. "The only truth is solitude!"

_Each, every day for you_

He knew the voice that approached in the lightening shadows but The Beast would not acknowledge it. "You left," he growled.

_In everything you do_

The shadows holding to him caressed him, attempting to soothe away lost years of empty bitterness. "You left!" he roared.

_When you come to me_

And as the shadows faded away, there she stood just as he remembered - young, beautiful, sparkling - arms open to welcome him home. A single tear slid down his cheek as the shadows holding him relinquished their hold. "You left," Erik wept as Tallis took his hands in her own as three shadows hovered close by.

_And hold me close to you_

"I did not wish to leave," Tallis said as she wrapped her husband in her embrace, resting her soft cheek against his marred one.

_I bless you_

"And I have never truly left," she whispered. "I have been the voice in Gabriel's music." Tallis felt the sharp pain that tore through Erik's heart. "I have been the strength in Michael's struggles." Another pain, a bit sharper. Tallis drew back to look at her husband, a gentle smile on her face. "I have been the faith in Orla's despair." A still sharper pain that nearly doubled Erik over and Tallis pulled him up, gently laying a hand over his heart. "And I have been every breath you take, every beat of your heart." She kissed the tears that now flowed freely. "Did you think I would ever truly leave you?" she whispered.

_And you bless me, too._

"Tallis," Erik whispered back, a final pain ripping away old wounds as his tears washed away the guilt and recriminations allowing him to see clearly for the first time in years. He felt the final caresses of the three shadows and knew the promises he and Tallis had made to the future would thrive, sending their love even farther into unknown futures.

"I have missed you," Tallis said as she drew back, her gray eyes sparkling like the evening stars, a warm smile gracing her lips. "Are you ready to come home?"

Erik raised her hand to his lips. "More than ready," he replied as Eternity flared brightly.

And one day - in the depth of the Paris Opera House - workers would find the remains of a man dressed in nothing but tattered rags lying beside the underground lake. They would take pity upon the poor remains and bury them where they lay, making sure to include the small gold wedding band found clutched tightly in the man's hand.


End file.
